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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745581">No one knew</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsARobin/pseuds/ItsARobin'>ItsARobin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>percy jackson - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Depression, Self Harm, Self-Harm, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, trigger warning, tw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:20:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsARobin/pseuds/ItsARobin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Percy didn't know why he felt this way. He had no reason to feel how he felt and he couldn't describe it. The feeling of being completely alone, of being sad when there was no reason. The nagging voice that was telling him that it would be better maybe if he slept forever. </p>
<p>He couldn't tell anyone, they wouldn't believe him or they would try and restrain him and "The Sea does not like to be restrained" The stigma surrounding suicide and mental illness was overwhelming. All passed off as seeking attention or some other stupid excuse that suddenly made it not anyone's problem and just gets forgotten. </p>
<p>He had thought about the best way to commit suicide. He couldn't drown himself, Burning would hurt and take a while - being slowly cooked alive inside a prison of skin, Hanging would inspire the same fear that he had of drowning, slitting wrists and pills or shooting his brains out seemed the two available options he had.</p>
<p>Hiding behind a mask of smiles was getting tiring. He knew he couldn't tell anyone unless he wanted to be ignored or mocked, so what was the point? What was the point of continuing his facade of smiles? What was the point of living if he wanted to die?</p>
<p>They weren't noticing. No-one was noticing that something was wrong, that he was unhappy, that he was struggling to cope and drowning in feelings that he didn't understand. <br/>Why weren't they noticing? Did they not care? Were they not friends? Why couldn't they see?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Percy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Things looked different when you know you're going to die. There's an emotion that simmers just beneath the surface when you look at something that you've seen nearly every day in your life and think that that will be the last time you will ever see it. It's a sudden clarity to your thought process that makes your brain just stop for a moment. </p><p>Percy Jackson was going to die, tonight, and it was going to be done by his own hands. </p><p>Subtle goodbyes said to friends, hoping that maybe they would catch on that one last time but no-one seemed to. </p><p>The day passed filled with the strain of keeping his mask functioning and not slipping up, harder still with the cold clarity that thoughts of suicide bring. </p><p>Warning for graphic stuff here. </p><p>Everything was ready. Pills in front, already laid out. RipTide uncapped, ready to be picked up. Percy Jackson was ready to die. </p><p>The cold bronze of RipTide felt soothing at first on his skin, then as pressure was added the skin opened and a warm pain started to move through his arm. A long cut down the vein of the forearm pressing hard, hard enough to cut the vein and redder than red, crimson blood began to flow from his left arm. </p><p>The process was repeated for the right arm and as he was starting to feel weak, red hot pain lancing through his arms. Pills were shakily swallowed and RipTide was raised once more to slash sideways at the wrists. Making triply sure that tonight he would die.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So Percys dead. Almost definitely anyway, next chapter might be different POV depending on where my mind goes. Cya then I guess.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Nico - The note</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing Nico saw when he bashed in the door was blood, everywhere. A pool of crimson liquid coalescing together. The second thing Nico saw was the body, the body of his first friend, his crush, his best friend, slumped by the shower, blood still trickling from his veins. He looked slightly more peaceful in death. The final thing Nico noticed was the bloodstained note that lay by Percy. Picking it up meant going closer to the horror that Nico hoped was just a terrible dream but he did it anyway. This was Percy’s note, his final link to the world, he was not going to let it sit untouched and forgotten.</p>
<p>
  <em> I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t any of your faults but god why couldn’t you have seen just anything that I was going through. I was in pain, was waiting for someone to see, but no-one did. The constant adage of suicide being a permanent solution to a temporary problem is all fine to say, but when the temporary problem has been going on for 6 years and doesn’t feel like stopping when does it become a permanent problem. When do I stop feeling so fucking numb all the time, when do I get to be happy like you people are. Hopefully now I can be happy in the underworld. </em>
</p>
<p><strong>Annabeth</strong>.</p>
<p>
  <em> I’m sorry. I guess I couldn’t be the one who would save you all the time, too busy making sure you were ok and I never once bothered about myself. I’m so sorry, please, if you are caught up with my death, if you can do one thing to remember me, then live for me.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong> Nico.</strong>
</p>
<p><em> Maybe I’ll see you down in the underworld. I’m sorry, so sorry but I can’t change what i've done. I can’t change and that’s the problem. I’m so fucking sorry.</em> </p>
<p>A tear stain dropped onto the paper as the note ended and the Prince of Death stood, shaking as he irrevocably lost his composure and wept for the hero that had pulled him out of the darkness but lost himself to it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi! So it’s been an absolute age since I wrote anything to do with this story or read anything to do with the PJO fandom in general to be honest but here we go! Another chapter and hopefully not a 2+year break before another chapter  Tell me what you think of it and what direction you think it should go in, I’d love to hear your thoughts!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>End of the first chapter. This will probably be a short story so yeah.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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